


ribs

by bu5an



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Hurt, M/M, One-sided Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Songfic, Unrequited Love, aged up iwaizumi, i wrote this at 2am it's an unedited mess, ribs lorde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:36:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bu5an/pseuds/bu5an
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Precisely, kid. I’m going mad having to grow old.”<br/>a mess of an iwaoi fic inspired by ribs by lorde.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ribs

He sat alone, in the empty room staring up at the sky through the dirty window. The stars shone down, casting an odd light over the boy’s face. He was still on the floor with his leg curled underneath himself, bare and luminous. A worn sweater was draped around his body, the faded fabric warm and familiar against the boy’s skin. Chin against knees he breathed out, steam blossoming from his lips like flower buds in spring. Soft waves of hair curved down around his face, the strands still damp from an earlier shower. The room was filled with an unending feeling of emptiness. The boy seemed unaware, bony hands curved into loose fists hidden within the sleeves of the sweater. Eyes looked blankly towards the roof, hazel and marble like, long lashes nearly brushing his cheeks when his gaze faltered in the movement of blinking. Time stretched on. The boy let out a small quiet noise, almost like a sob as he buried his face in his knees, as though he could hide from time like a child could from the monsters lurking beneath his bed. 

 

Red liquid split on the white shirt, the man swearing loudly as he leant over a teenager, wiping the liquid away from the other's shirt with gentle fingers.    
“Don’t worry, Iwaizumi.” The pretty boy trilled, linking his fingers with the busy ones moving over the stain, pulling them away from his stomach. “I’ll fix it later.”

“Oikawa, it’ll stain. Just let me soak it, or whatever it is you do with stained shirts.” Hajime frowned at the shirt, his tanned fingers still tangled in Tooru’s. Unclasping their fingers, Tooru pushed Hajime away playfully, a loose smirk on his face.

“Silly, Iwa-chan. It’s perfectly fine.” Tooru ignored the crease growing in his friend’s forehead, rising and ambling across the room to pick up the bottle. Laughing lightly at the glare Hajime sent him as he spun around, the wine bottle dangling from his fingers and slowly walked back, keeping his mind focused on walking back without letting a single crimson drop fall from the rim of the bottle. His parents would kill him if he stained anything of _theirs_.

Placing it carefully on the table, Tooru sighed as he sunk back down into the couch, closing his eyes and feeling the alcohol circulating through his veins. 

“Oikawa, can I put on some music?” Hajime's warm voice cut through the quiet and Tooru let out a wordless murmur of agreement. 

If he was drunk, he might have just asked Hajime to talk for hours, his voice seeping into his bones like honey; slow, thick and sweet. But he wasn’t quite that tipsy yet, so instead settled for the occasional hum as Hajime flicked through Tooru’s vinyl collection. 

The benefit of having well off parents, Tooru supposed, was the collections he was able to keep. Half of the records he owned lay in shelves, never played and left to gather dust while Tooru wore down the few he listened to, until the music grew scratchy and unintelligible and Tooru was able to sleep peacefully. Hajime loved exploring the towers of records, flipping through and asking the occasional question as Tooru slowly drank his way through a bottle of wine. It had become an odd sort of habit with Hajime visiting once a fortnight on a Saturday after he had finished work, while Tooru left his schoolwork till the rush of daybreak.

Recorded piano filled the air, reverberating through Tooru’s body and he laughed. His lips stretched wide as he smiled. The boy opened his eyes, his hazel eyes sparkled with glee as he observed the way Hajime crouched over the player, his focus purely and completely on the sound falling from the machine. 

“Really, Iwa?” 

“It’s a good song, Oikawa. Even if the lyrics seem somewhat ironic.”

Rolling over, lying on his stomach, Tooru cocked his head to the side, the harsh light of the room casting dark shadows across his face. He gazed at Hajime, slumped to the floor in favor of staring up at the ceiling. His chest moved slowly, as though the weight of the sky was digging into him, stripping him of breath.

Tooru was silent, words playing on his tongue, before he began to sing in a low voice.

__“All these people drinking lover’s spit… They sit around and clean their face with it.”_ _

Hajime let out a small chuckle, and Tooru’s chest filled with pleasure at the sound. Hajime mouth curved up slightly, as he joined in in.

__“And they listen to teeth to learn how to quit… Tied to a night they never met.”_ _

Hajime let out an exhale and Tooru stopped his voice, his fingers curving onto the armrest of the couch, propping his chin over his knuckles. The tension between them was almost tangible, and Tooru was uncertain how to lessen it without shattering what lay between them.

“I hate it sometimes Oikawa. I hate it.” Hajime said hoarsely. Tooru sat up and inched off the furniture, slowly lowering himself cross legged to the floor.

“What, Iwaizumi?”

“Just…” Hajime ran a hand over his face. “Growing up. Working. Whatever the hell I’m doing.”

Tooru wondered if this was the moment the world would stop turning as Tooru would whisper his confession, when Hajime would reply and they would sink into each other. But common sense, and a niggling at the back of his mind kept him mute as Hajime kept talking, his words overflowing and spilling into the sleepy sky. 

“I’m so scared, Oikawa. Of what I’m becoming, of what I’m doing. It drives me mad, not having control over this.”

“Time?” Tooru’s voice was hushed, and Hajime rolled over to his side to face him.

“Precisely, kid. I’m going mad having to grow old.”

Tooru’s lips bent into a bitter smile. How he had longed to grow up, to reach out and catch up with Hajime with his life of cities and stars. He wanted to be closer to Hajime, tell him how Tooru’s mind was stuck on the way the other laughed and spoke, how he hated the world child with all his being, because that was the line which held them apart. 

“What do you wish you could be?” Tooru began to inch over, his head feeling slightly dizzy as the wine began to blur the edges of his thoughts. 

“I don’t know. It’s just strange I guess. When I was your age I was certain of what I was going to do, I wasn’t afraid of anything. But now…”

“You’re only five years older than me Iwa-chan! Don’t act so patronizing.” Tooru huffed, and Hajime snorted. 

“Whatever, Shittykawa.”   
Tooru pouted, crossing his arms across his chest. Hajime laughed warmly and tugged at the bottom of Tooru’s stained shirt. “Stop acting like such a brat.”

Tooru stuck out his tongue, tinged red from the wine and fell back dramatically. 

“Whatever, Iwa-chan. I know you love me.” His voice hitched slightly at the end but Hajime didn’t notice, his eyelids falling shut. The music hesitated for a moment, before the song began to play again and Tooru hummed along to the piano. The pair dozed on the wooden floor in undisturbed tranquility. Tracing his fingers along the ground and Tooru tilted his head, slowly running his eyes over Hajime’s still form. Filled with an uneasy calm, he almost wished that they could stay in the moment until the end of time.

 

The boy dragged himself to his feet, sleepily shuffling through the room. The jersey fell to mid thigh, slightly itchy against the cold skin. A hand escaped the sleeve and ran through his wayward hair and he shivered. Wandering into the shadows, he walked until he reached a darker room and blindly stumbled until his hands fell on the wood of his dresser. Fumbling, the boy wrapped his hands around an object and twisted it, a bright light illuminating the room. He flinched slightly, dropping the torch like a hot pan and winced again at the thud as it landed on the dresser. Straightening up, the boy slowly tilted his head up to face the mirror. His reflection stared back, unfamiliar and oddly empty. The face looking back was pale and gaunt, shadows growing under his eyes like dying violets. His eyes were haunted, not even the torch awakening anything within them. The hazel seemed closer to black and the whites were veined with red from his crying earlier that night. Lifting up his hand, the boy trailed his fingers down his cheekbones, the nails painted midnight blue and half chipped away a startling contrast to his skin. 

He stood motionless for what seemed like hours, before tugging open a drawer, rummaging through and pulling a pair of trousers free from the mess.The boy stepped away into the center of the room, tugging the pants over his hips, and pulling at the drawstring, twirling it around his fingers as he stared down. Inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the cool oxygen, he squeezed his eyes shut, digging his fingers into his temples as though he could rip the heartbreaking memories from his mind through pure desperation.

 

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this.” Hajime said, pushing open the door to his apartment. Tooru bounced in excitedly, eyes rapidly drinking in the sight inside the door.

“Thanks, Iwaizumi!” Tooru smiled, sliding his shoes off his feet and murmuring a quiet apology for intruding out of habit.

“Whatever, just don’t make a mess. You already messed up my car.”

“Did not!” Tooru responded indignantly. Hajime had come around to his place unexpectedly, much to Tooru’s delight and had planned on dragging him out into town to his favourite cafe. He had wanted to show Hajime the place, and the promise of a hot bitter coffee and warm muffins leaving no complaints. The drive had been amicably quiet, the late hour leaving the roads empty. Tooru had sat with his feet propped up on the dashboard, Iwaizumi driving with a cigarette dangling from his lips. After some time, Tooru had piped up. 

“Iwa-chan, why don’t you take me to your apartment?”

“What?” Hajime’s voice was slightly incoherent with the smoke in his mouth.

“You haven’t taken me there yet. And you’ve seen my house.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Iwaizumi, please!” 

Tension filled the air, Tooru lowering his legs and digging them into the floor of the car. He glared downwards, biting his lips as the scent of smoke wreathed around the pair. 

“Alright. I’ll take you there, Tooru. It’s just a few minutes from here.”   
Tooru’s head snapped up, his breath catching in his throat as starlight rushed through the windscreen, blazing over Hajime’s face. Something curled in his chest at the use of his name and Tooru blinked, adjusting his position to slump in the seat, covering his face in his hands, trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks. Nervousness tugged at his stomach, as well as anticipation and burning fear.

The ride to Hajime’s place seemed to stretch on, even when Hajime led Tooru to the elevator and they rose higher. Now Tooru stood in the room and wrapped his arms around his body. 

“I haven’t brought many people up here. It’s quite small.” 

Hajime moved, brushing past Tooru to the kitchen. Turning to watch the man, Tooru’s mouth quirked upwards as Hajime collected up several chipped mugs and placed them in the sink turning on the tap and letting water pour over them, facing away from his visitor. Tooru had known Hajime long enough to know his nervous tics and found them rather endearing.

“Don’t worry Iwa-chan. I already know how messy you are.” Tooru drawled, padding over the carpet to the window to peer over the town. Sixteen stories up and the house lights looked like fairies dotted across the town. He leant forward and breathed on the glass, watching the fog turn the transparent white and lifted a finger, tracing the shape of a music note on the glass.

Hajime startled Tooru as he joined him at the window, pressing his own fingers against the window, writing in his thick script.

_ Do you like it? _

Laughing softly, Tooru bumped his shoulder against Hajime’s. He wrote his own reply quickly and messily.

_ Yes. _

Hajime leant forward, letting his breath stream over the glass. Tooru lifted his hands and pressed his pointer finger to the glass, hesitating before slowly tracing more words against the glass.

_ Can I call you Hajime? _

They both stilled for a moment, reading the words before the elder slowly wiped his name away. Tooru stiffened, but Hajime replaced the word.

_ Tooru? _

Biting back his grin, Tooru moved his hand back to his first answer, circling it twice. Watching Hajime out of the corner of his eye, Tooru let his smile appear on his lips as he saw Hajime’s own expression.

“You’re sort of my best friend, you know Hajime? I mean, you probably didn’t, but at least now you do. I wanted you to know that you’ve made all this a lot easier for me. Growing up I guess. Before I knew you I didn’t have many friends and some days I felt like I couldn’t even breathe. But now ... everything seems just a little bit lighter. So thank you, for that.” Tooru couldn’t stop the words falling from his lips, even as Hajime lifted and rested his hand on his shoulder.

“You’re one of my only friends too, Tooru. So,” he squeezed Tooru’s shoulder and took in a shuddering breath. “Thank you.”

 

The record creaked as it played, chords skipping and words marred as the boy sat curled on the floor.  _ ‘I like it all....all that way… like it… way….’  _

The boy hummed along, the hitches in between each of his tiny breaths disrupting the tune. He slowly lay back, twisting his fingers together and letting them fall against his stomach. His chest rose and fell irregularly, like the last leaves that clung to trees in fall, not quite ready to let go of the things they knew. The record player hissed, static-like sounds filling the room causing the boy to try push himself from the ground, nearly crashing down as he misjudged his distance. His arms shot out, unsteady as he looked down on the floor. The music creaked again, before bursting back into life, the sound ringing throughout the house.

_ ‘They listen to teeth and learn how to quit, take some hands to get used to it.” _ _  
_ “Lover’s spit, lover’s spit.” The boy mumbled to himself, running his nails across the floor, the sleeves of his sweater trailing underneath his palms. Perhaps if he kept singing if the words could eventually turn him numb, or if the frigid bones of the house would leave him dead first. 

Then he cracked, throwing himself forwards and lashing out at the table, sending it spinning and the record player crashing to the floor, shattering apart at the contact. He lay half down, his chest above the floor heaving, hands buried within the remains of the device. Lifting a handful of shards, he opened his hand and watched them tumble to the cold floor like heavy rain. The boy’s body began to quiver, quiet laughs building in his chest before one escaped which morphed into a whimper. Droplets ran down his cheeks as he clutched at his body, trying to withhold the sounds as though as holding himself together could stop himself from falling apart.

 

Curled up on the edge of the bed, Tooru laughed loudly, hands holding his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. Iwaizumi was grinning too, the honest look of amusement making him even more attractive than Tooru had ever thought.

“No way!” He choked out, muffling his gasps in his borrowed shirt. Tooru halfheartedly wondered if Hajime would let him keep it.

“Bokuto didn’t even realise until he got home.” Wiping at his eyes, Hajime smiled warmly at Tooru.    
“I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

Tooru nodded his head fervently. “My ribs are tired from it all too.”

Hajime kicked at the teenager gently, humming tunelessly under his breath. “It’ll toughen you up.”

“I’m tough enough thank you very much! I beat Ushiwaka in sprints the other day.”

Hajime nodded seriously, a quirk at the corner of his mouth his only sign of amusement. Tooru ignored him in favour of asking another question.

“Where should I sleep?”

“I’ve only got one bed.” Hajime said.

“I’ll sleep on the couch then, silly,” Tooru responds, swinging his legs around so they dangled off the mattress, lying on his back and tilting his head back to look at Hajime.

“You’re not sleeping on that lumpy thing. You’re a guest so you can have my bed.” Was the reply.

“I can’t intrude on you Hajime!” Tooru objected as the man frowned down at him. Sitting up, Tooru grinned before snaking his arms up to tickle at Hajime’s ribs.

“Don’t distract me Tooru.” The teenager couldn’t help but marvel at the way his name rolled off the elder's tongue and the way his hands felt wrapped around his wrists, warm and caressing his pulse.

“Sorry Iwa-chan!” Tooru quipped, before dragging himself up to his feet. “How about we share then?”

“What?” Hajime snapped, eyes narrowing in distrust.

“It’ll be like being kids again! Sharing beds and late night whispering, you know?”

“My bed is tiny.” Hajime released Tooru’s wrists and folded his arms. 

“Oh well. It’s easier than arguing over who’s sleeping on the couch.”

“I’d rather sleep on the couch.” Tooru gasped, a hand fluttering against his heart at Hajime’s jab.

“How rude Hajime. That’s no way to treat your guest!” 

Hajime sighed, running a hand through his spiky hair, eyes downcast and thoughtful.

“Fine then. No funny business, Tooru. I’m serious.”

Ignoring the way his heart leapt into his throat, Tooru smiled and stuck up his signature peace sign.

Throwing back the covers, Hajime slid into his bed. Tooru hesitated for a second before following his friend’s lead and snuggling under. Their bare legs were pressed against each other, Hajime’s legs smooth against Tooru’s own. Shivering slightly, the brunette curled himself closer to the edge of the bed. Hajime lean over and flicked off the bedside light, blanketing the room in darkness. He rolled over, settling himself into a comfortable position as Tooru held his breath, feeling every movement. Building up his courage, the teenager flipped himself over, his back now facing the cold air outside the blankets, his face closer to Hajime’s then it had ever been. Hajime tilted his head slightly to face Tooru’s, the faint moonlight illuminating his face, eyes glinting like water’s surface.

“Tooru.” He breathed quietly and Tooru moved unthinkingly.

Their lips were pressed together and Tooru felt the world slow. Hajime’s lips were slightly rougher than he’s expected, the lingering taste of smoke and mint an odd combination, yet so distinctly Hajime that Tooru couldn’t bring himself to care about anything, except the warmth of Hajime beneath his lips and the electricity coursing through his body as Hajime’s hands pressed against his hips and then he was falling-

Blankets twisted around his ankles like chains and the floor frozen beneath Tooru’s bare legs and everything was so cold, so empty until Hajime started screaming.

__“Tooru!”_ _

_ ‘How could you just?” _

_ You’re so!  _ **_stupid-”_ **

**_“We can’t-”_ **

**_“I could never!”_ **

**_“Tooru!”_ **

Tooru dug his hands into his head, trying to block out Hajime’s voice.

But the once warm hands pulled at Tooru’s wrists, the words ripping through his head.

**“** _It’s_ _ sick,  _ Oikawa. I’m so much older than you and we both-” Hajime’s voice was so raw, so broken as the words poured from his perfect lips. “It’s so so  _ wrong _ and we could never-  _ I could never.” _

Never. Out of everything, that was the word that stuck with Tooru, hacking it’s way in and scrawling it at the front of his mind, black and harsh and unforgettable.

And Tooru couldn’t remember fleeing the room, Hajime’s desperate voice echoing behind him as he threw open the doors and slammed the elevator button and could feel the hot tear falling down so fast and there were so many of them. Tooru shuddered as he stumbled into the opening lift, spinning and repeatedly smashing the ‘close’ option, watching as Hajime ran from his room in the hall, turning slowly to face Tooru as the elevator began to close. They stared at each other, motionless amd the doors were sealed. Hajime was gone. His useless legs giving way as he wailed and cried, the words tearing their way from his throat.

**__“That will never be enough.” ____**

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 2am it's probably terrible but thanks if you got here


End file.
